


Saint Seiya: Soulmates

by ingenious_spark



Series: Saint Seiya prompts & short fic [11]
Category: Saint Seiya, 聖闘士星矢 Legend of Sanctuary | Saint Seiya: Legend of Sanctuary (2014), 聖闘士星矢: 冥王神話 | Saint Seiya: The Lost Canvas, 聖闘士星矢: 黄金魂 | Saint Seiya: Soul of Gold
Genre: Afterlife, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Canonical Character Death, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, First Meetings, Fluff, Kid Fic, Long Live Feedback Comment Project, Mentions of Death, Misunderstandings, Multi, Possession, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Romance, Sex, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Temperature Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-22
Updated: 2017-09-22
Packaged: 2019-01-01 02:50:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 5,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12147030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ingenious_spark/pseuds/ingenious_spark
Summary: Soulmate drabbles from my tumblr, ratings vary.The first words you speak to your soulmate are written on your their skin. Platonic and romantic, these people will make an indelible mark on your life and your afterlife.





	1. Harpy Valentine/Basilisk Sylphid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @aphrodites-bloody-rose asked: Soulmates prompt, either romantic or platonic: Sylphid/Valentine?
> 
> Mentions of death, characters get together in the Underworld. Rife with headcanons. Being a prophet in Atlantis leads to an early death by brain hemorrhage.

The words on Valentine’s body are easily covered, scripted in beautiful cursive curving along one rib. He often thinks about who they could belong to, this strange juxtaposition of beautiful handwriting and an incredibly crass nature.  
  
_Hey, looks like we’ve got someone new to beat on, right pretty boy?_  
  
He’s not sure what it means. He’s not terribly athletic, though he’s very flexible and his stamina when he runs is admirable.  
  
It makes up for the fact that he’s dying slowly.   
  
He’s a prophet, and each new prophecy leaves him weaker, saps more of his strength. Each time it takes longer to recover.   
  
Oddly enough, though, his soul mate dies first. He feels the searing pain along his rib as he feels the swelling build of pressure and pain in his skull, and his soul mate dies as he prophesies. Once he’s been carried to bed, the blood carefully cleaned away from his nose, and a cool, wet cloth laid over his eyes by his sweet, attentive sister, he pushes aside the drape if his short chiton. The words along his ribs are seared black, instead of the soft purple they had been, and he’s not sure how he feels.  
  
“At least I know I’ll see you soon,” he says, voice hoarse and sore.  
  
He dies three years after his soulmate, the gift of prophecy overburdening his brain, the delicate pathways of blood rupturing. He’s barely twenty when he stands before the King and Queen of the Underworld and they name him a Specter, a soldier of the Underworld.   
  
Celestial Wailing Star Harpy Valentine, in the service of Celestial Savage Star General Wyvern Rhadamanthys.  
  
He’s given quarters, and a training schedule, and when he shows up, a man with soft white hair looks at him, grins, and cracks his knuckles.  
  
“Hey, looks like we’ve got someone new to beat on, right pretty boy?” He says with a smirk. Valentine smiles, batting long eyelashes.   
  
“I’m glad you think I’m pretty, but really, what were you doing that you died before I did?” He asks curiously, because being a prophet is a deadly vocation. The white-haired man’s jaw drops open, and the woman behind him cackles with racous laughter. “I’m Valentine, what’s your name?” Daringly, he steps forward, pressing a kiss to the taller Specter’s jaw, before kicking his knees out from under him. The other man groans from where he’s been dumped in the dirt, and stares up at him with wondering eyes.  
  
“Sylphid.” He replies.


	2. Aquila Marin/Ophiuchus Shaina

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @teary-eyed-circle-of-friendship asked: Marin/Shaina for soulmate flashfic?

They meet when they are thirteen.   
  
That’s not quite right.  
  
They meet when they are ten, briefly, not long enough to actually speak, just nodding in passing acknowledgement. They know each other in passing for three years before they actually speak to each other, which is a bit of a strange accomplishment.  
  
“Hey, are you my new roommate? You better not leave stuff lying around!” Shaina tells her when Marin is shown to her new room. Marin stares, eyes round behind her mask, groping for words. Those are the very words that curl in vivid green around her left eye, both above and below. It’s the reason she’s never much minded the mask, the way it obscures her face.   
  
Shaina isn’t wearing her mask, as Marin is gently shoved into the room and the door is shut gently behind her. She’s absolutely beautiful, with soft black hair and bright green eyes.  
  
Marin doesn’t know what to say. Shaina huffs.  
  
“Ugh, fine, whatever. Look, that’s your bed and desk over there, and your closet. Please don’t leave your stuff on the floor.” She tools those gorgeous green eyes, and Marin moves mechanically, making her bed and putting away her clothes and books and toiletries. She sits on the edge of the bed and tries to think of something, anything, to say to her new soulmate.   
  
She isn’t sure yet, but she thinks her words might be the same color as Shaina’s lovely eyes.  
  
Evidently the silence is getting to Shaina too, because she sets down her book with an aggressive sigh. She makes a show of inspecting her slightly chipped purple-painted nails.  
  
“Look, just say something already!” She glares at Marin.  
  
“I don’t know what to say,” the words pass her lips before she’s really conscious of it, and Shaina’s pretty green eyes go wide, her hand flying to her thigh. Marin figures it’s as good a time as any, and drops her mask to rest in her lap, raising dark brown eyes to meet green.  
  
“Oh,” Shaina says weakly, and Marin nods quietly. Having words on your face is considered pretty awful in many cultures around the world. In Japan, most people wouldn’t even look at Marin’s face when they spoke to her, soul words are held as so intensely private. Marin’s breath catches and her eyes close when Shaina’s finger brushes the second half of her words, scripted over the thin, delicate skin under Marin’s eye.   
  
Her skin feels electrified.   
  
“Hi. I’m sorry,” Shaina whispers, and kisses her closed eyelid. Marin shivers. Maybe having a new roommate won’t be so bad after all.


	3. Cancer Deathmask/Pisces Aphrodite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @terresdebrume asked: I would love some Aphrodite and Deathmask and I challenge you to make the words on one of their wrists ‘you’re the sweetest person I ever met’.
> 
> So in the US release, Deathmask’s name was changed to Mephisto for reasons unknown. I have hence decided it’s his actual name, though not his birth name. Deathmask is a nickname of sorts.

Paolo is a really boring name, he’s decided. He’s always sort of hated it, as his mother’s attempt to “bless her albino child with an auspicious name”. As if having albinism was a disease, or his fault, or something. Sometimes he’s glad she died a year ago, even if he had been roughing it as a beggar and a pickpocket for a year. It wasn’t like living with his increasingly drug-addicted mother had been much better.

Master Dionisio, who had picked him up off the Sicilian streets about six months ago, had told him recently that his name had once been Cristiano. Paolo had eagerly asked if he could change his name too, and Dionisio had agreed. He is Paolo’s papa now, they had filled out stupid amounts of paperwork to make it possible. Paolo is still kind of nervous about the whole business, but Dionisio is kind, and an amazing cook. He’s also going to teach Paolo how to use the powers he already uses to talk to dead people properly. If he wants to, when he’s older, Dionisio says he can be the Cancer Saint, like he is. Paolo isn’t sure about that part yet, but he likes learning how to fight for real.

Dionisio isn’t here right now, off getting groceries for their guests. He’d told Paolo he could come too, but he hadn’t wanted to. Maybe he should have, though, because now he’s bored.

So bored.

That’s weird and new too. He’s  _bored._  He’s not worried about finding money or food, or a relatively warm and/or dry place to spend the night. He’s not worried about whether or not he can outrun some of the older kids who like beating him up and calling him names (scrawny devil’s rat is a particular favorite of theirs). He’s not even worried about whether or not old man Carlo is nearby, with his penchant for kids. Ugh, why’d he think of that creep? Paolo shivers, rubbing vigorously at his arms.

A name… He rubs an idle hand against his collarbone, where pink handwriting spells out words that had only just became actually readable. They’re sweet and comforting. Someone out there doesn’t think he looks like a rat, or is cursed by the devil.

Huh. The devil. A smirk curls his thin lips. That would be hilarious, but also kind of get back at everyone.

Lucifer is kind of a stupid name, and that would shorten to Lucy, so he tries to remember the names of other demons. Mother had had a book of them, and he taught himself how to read using that and her battered bible.

Abbadon, Astaroth, Beelzebub, Flauros, Forneus, Legion, Leviathan, Malphas, Mephistopheles…

Hm. Mephistopheles sounded nice. Kind of long, though. Maybe if he chopped a bit off? Mephisto. That sounded just about right.

“I’m home! And I brought our guests!” He scrambled back out to the living room, grinning at Dionisio, and curiously observing the newcomers. “This is Aurelien and Aphrodite, Pao-”

"Mephisto,” he interrupted. Dionisio blinked, nodded, and carried on.

"Mephisto. Aphrodite is about your age, and Aurelien sponsored and mentored me. He was like a father to me,” Dionisio smiles at the old man, hair more gray now than black, and wrinkly like a raisin. Mephisto is more interested in the tiny blond child attached to his leg, face hidden in a weird stuffed animal. He’s never seen anything like it. Is it supposed to be a hippo? Aurelien nudges the other kid forward, and he approaches, hesitantly.

"You’re really pretty. You look like a rose,” Aphrodite says softly, words heavily accented. Mephisto’s chest feels warm and buzzy, and he grins widely.

"You’re the sweetest person I ever met,” he declares brightly, and tackles the blond over in a hug. They topple to the ground, and Dionisio is laughing and Aurelien is cooing, and Aphrodite squeaks is surprised distress, but Mephisto doesn’t want to let go. “What is this thing, though? A hippo?” he asks, poking the stuffed animal. Aphrodite makes a tiny indignant noise.

“He’s Moomin, stupid,” Aphrodite says, pouting.

“‘M not stupid! I just never seen one before.” He objects as they sit up. Aphrodite bites his lip and does something weird, scrunching his face up in concentration. Suddenly there’s a bright red rose in his hand, and he offers it to Mephisto.

“Sorry I called you stupid.” He says, offering him the flower. Mephisto takes it a little dubiously, because wasn’t giving flowers for girls and adults? But it’s pretty, and Aphrodite looks hopeful, and it’s like the same color as Mephisto’s eyes. He takes it.

"‘Sokay. Don’t do it again, yeah?” He says, and they smile at each other.


	4. Aquarius Dégel/Scorpio Kardia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @aquariusdegel asked: I would love some good passionate and healing Kardegel soulmate au right now <3 one where Kardia’s cute and in love

"You know, it would be so much easier if I had fallen in love with  _you._ ” Kardia sighs, flopping over onto Manigoldo’s lap. The Cancer Saint absently pinches the tip of Kardia’s nose, and Kardia pokes his hand in retaliation. Manigoldo sets his book down, sighing and taking a bite of the apple Kardia had tossed him when he came in.

“‘Ydo love me,” he points out, and Kardia pins his platonic soulmate with a sarcastic look.

“Yeah, but I’m not  _in_ love with you. That’d be easy. Instead, I’m in love with the most beautiful, most intelligent, most amazing and caring Aquarius there ever was and ever will be.” Kardia sighs with a lovesick expression.

“And the most oblivious?” Manigoldo supplies dryly. He gets a faint, distant look that means he’s speaking to someone else telepathically, but it doesn’t last long, so Kardia doesn’t call him on it.

“You’d think, with my words to him he’d get that we have a romantic bond, not a platonic one…” he sighs, flopping his arm over his eyes. Manigoldo sighs at his dramatics.

“The words you said to him when you were twelve, five days into the worst fever of your life?” Manigoldo points out. Kardia pouts.

“They were romantic!” He protests. “Gods, I just wanna kiss him silly, Mani, what do I  _do?_ ” He whines, pulling himself upright and climbing into the other teenager’s lap, tucking his face into his shoulder. Manigoldo pats his back soothingly, used to his platonic’s overly physically affectionate nature. “I wanna kiss him and touch his words, but he’s never shown me where they  _are._ ” His fingers seek out Manigoldo’s right knee, feeling a surge of warm comfort even through Mani’s pants. He’s heard that romantic bonds feel different, more exciting.

A clatter sounds in the doorway, and Kardia jumps and looks up. Dégel is there, a book lying forgotten at his feet.

“I thought-”

“Dégel!”

Kardia scrambles to his feet and glances back at Manigoldo for reassurance. Manigoldo, who looks _far too smug._  Kardia flashes to Mani’s brief telepathic call, and lunges for him, growling.

“Mani, you traitor!” He shrieks, voice cracking. Manigoldo cackles, and shoves both of them out into the courtyard of Cancer. Dégel looks incredibly flustered. “Look, sorry about that bastard. And I’m sorry, if you heard something you didn’t want to hear.” He twists his fingers together awkwardly. Dégel grabbed his hand, towing him all the way up to Aquarius and into a very secluded part of his library before turning to look at Kardia, who was even more confused now.

“Do you. I mean, are you… I thought you were romantic soulmates with Manigoldo,” Dégel struggles to tell him. Kardia gapes at him, casting about for something, anything to say.

"He’s my brother,” he finally says weakly, because that’s the only way he can really explain it. Dégel buries his face in his hands, and his ears are burning red. “Dégel?” He rubs the Aquarius Saint’s upper arms comfortingly. Dégel makes a weak chuckle.

"Gods I’m am idiot!” He chokes, and suddenly he’s crying. Kardia panics, and clutches Dégel into a hug.

"Please don’t cry, you’ll make me cry, Dégel, what’s  _wrong,_ ” he murmurs worriedly. Dégel shakes his head, wipes his face off, throws his arms around Kardia’s neck and kisses him, hard. For a moment Kardia stands utterly still, and then he’s crowding the older boy up against the bookshelf, licking into his soft, cool mouth and tangling their tongues together. Dégel catches Kardia’s hand and puts it on his hipbone, and puts his own hand over Kardia’s heart, where elegant ice-blue cursive spells out:  _‘Be still, I’m going to help bring the fever down’_. A spark of buzzy want tingles under Kardia’s skin, and Dégel moans into his mouth. He’s willing to bet that on Dégel’s hip is his own loopy cursive.

_If I’d known I’d have such a beautiful angel, I’d have died sooner.’_


	5. Gemini Saga/Aries Mû

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @versailles-fairytale asked: Hiya! All romantic! Milo/Camus, Saga/Mû, Mû/Shaka owo thank you so much!
> 
> Went with Saga/Mû first! Will follow up with the other two! o3o Also, whoops, never put their words in this one. Oh well. Set in some universe where Aiolos becomes Pope, and Saga chooses to step down from Gemini, give it to Kanon, and become Altar, the Pope’s right-hand man.

A knock sounded at the door, and Saga looked up. Mû peeked around it, and Saga smiled softly at him. Mû let himself into the office, and Saga set down his pen, stretching.

“Are you busy?” Mû asked softly, and Saga shook his head, smiling. Mû smiled back, but he seemed distracted.

“No, I’m pretty much done for the day,” he assures his soulmate, and Mû brightens up. “Do you want to come over for supper? Kanon’s out on a mission for a couple days, and I always end up cooking for two anyway. Unless you needed to care for Kiki?” He’d be glad for the company, he was always a little out of sorts when Kanon was gone.

“No, Kiki is staying with one of his friends down in Rodorio for the night. I’m kind of at loose ends too,” Mû admitted, and Saga packed up for the day, allowing himself to wrap an arm around Mû’s shoulders as they walked back down to Gemini. He still lived there, even though he stepped down from the post to take up Altar for Aiolos, to help his best friend and platonic soulmate however he could. Mû seemed preoccupied, nervous, when they stepped in, so Saga led them to the living room instead of the kitchen, sitting them both down on the couch.

“What’s bothering you, Mû? Do you want to talk about it?” He asked softly, as always careful not to push the younger man.

“Yes, I just don’t know quite how to say it,” Mû sighed, clearly frustrated. He took a deep breath. “Look, we’re romantic soulmates. I  _know_ we are. I was- I was kind of expecting you to invite me to bed when I turned eighteen.” Mû was blushing now, sweet and determined. “I’m twenty now and you still haven’t. Am I wrong? Are we not romantic?” He asked softly, and Saga cupped his cheek in one hand.

“We are, I feel it too. But, Mû… I’m older than you. By a considerable amount, eight years is a lot when you’re young. I didn’t want to hurt you, so I decided to let you come to me when you were ready to. That seemed like the most acceptable choice I could make.” Saga tried to explain, stroking Mû’s cheek gently. He’s held off so long touching his soulmate, keeping everything friendly and utterly platonic when he did, that touching him now, like this, is somehow incredibly intimate. Mû’s shoulders relaxed, and he leaned into Saga’s hand.

“That does make sense,” he admitted with a sigh. Then he looked up, hopeful. “I’ve come to you, Saga. I  _want_ you,” he said boldly, sliding closer, before straddling Saga’s lap. Saga choked down a moan as that, setting his hands lightly on Mû’s hips. Mû leaned up, pulling Saga down with small, work-rough hands and kissed him at long last. Saga kissed back freely, gladly, gently squeezing slender hips. Mû bucked into his hands, slipping his tongue into Saga’s mouth, and Saga sucked briefly on it, earning a soft, muffled moan.

They kissed for a short eternity, before Mû became determined to take off both their shirts. Saga let the Aries Saint disrobe him, stroking Mû’s beautifully defined back muscles. Smithwork had sculpted his body into something artists would weep for, and Saga lets himself admire for the first time, before leaning in to kiss Mû again. Soon enough Mû was undoing both their pants, shoving them down just enough to get both small hands around both their cocks. Saga joined in, lacing his fingers through Mû’s to touch hot, delicate skin, until they both came, breathing hard and kissing slowly still.

Definitely worth the wait, though he vowed he would give Mû all the time in the world.


	6. Aquarius Camus/Scorpio Milo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @versailles-fairytale asked: Hiya! All romantic! Milo/Camus, Saga/Mû, Mû/Shaka owo thank you so much!
> 
> Part 2/3, this one is just sex. Sorry? @versailles-fairytale was telling me they hadn’t seen nearly enough of Camus topping. Also temperature play, established relationship, and having to be super quiet because there’s a 14 and a 12 year old sleeping in the other room (Isaac & Hyôga).

Milo whines quietly as cold fingers glide over his skin, and he grabs the offending hand, tugging Camus into bed and under the covers. He squeaks softly a few seconds later.

“Cooold,” he whines, scootching a bit away from Camus. Camus chuckles.

“Sorry, Rôshi kept me out kind of late.” He whispers, and Milo whines softly again. Camus’s cold fingers find his skin again, wrapping his arms around Milo’s torso and pinching his nipples. Milo moans softly. Emboldened, Camus traces his fingers over his words in Milo’s skin, spiraled around one nipple.

_‘Your eyes look like the ocean.’_

He closes his slightly warmer mouth over nipple and words alike, and Milo moans again, pushing his hips back against Camus’s. Camus smiles against his skin.

“Besides, if I was so cold you couldn’t tolerate it, you wouldn’t be pushing back into me like this,” he whispers, squeezing Milo’s warm ass. He also seems to have gone to bed naked, and that’s just an invitation. Literally, Milo had told him that if he ever came to bed naked, he wanted sex. And, both of them being eighteen, hormones dictated they had a lot of sex. He twists away briefly, getting on a condom, and getting the bottle of lube and slicking up his fingers. Milo whines softly at his absence, and Camus chuckles.

“You’re going to have to be quiet, Mishka, the boys are asleep,” he breathes into Milo’s ear, pushing two slick, cold fingers into Milo’s body. Milo arches beautifully, biting on a knuckle to stifle a soft cry, breathing ragged already. “Oh, you’ve been aching for it, haven’t you?” He uses a tiny thread of Cosmo to keep his fingers and the lube cold- not too uncomfortably cold, just cold enough to be on the edge. He knows how Milo likes it, despite all of his claims to hate the cold. He drops into Russian, murmuring filthy praise into Milo’s ears as he fingers him open.

Soon he has Milo writhing on three fingers, and pulls them out, ignoring his soft whine of protest. He slicks up his cock, finding the handtowel they keep on the bedside table, wiping off his fingers and passing it to Milo to shove under his hips so they don’t make a mess of the sheets. Milo rolls onto his belly, and Camus shifts atop him, guiding himself into Milo’s tight heat. Only Cosmo keeps the skin of his cock cold, Milo is always so hot inside. He plants his knees on either side of Milo’s hips and catches his wrists with his hands, pinning them above the blond’s head. His words, written in the palm of his hand, burn him with excitement where he’s caught Milo to him, short choppy handwriting spelling; _‘Ah- thank you, your hair is very pretty and very yellow.’_ , he hadn’t had the best grasp on Greek at that age, but he had at least known that you repay a compliment with a compliment.

He keeps the slide slow and deep, until Milo is twitching and writhing, trying to shove himself back onto Camus’s cock, face buried in the pillows to muffle his shouts and curses. Then, he takes mercy, fucking Milo hard and fast until Milo squeezes like a vice around him, sobbing and shivering as he comes, hard. Camus comes not long after, fucking Milo through his orgasm with a whispered litany of Russian praise, until it Peters out into a muffled moan. Camus releases the spell, letting the heat of Milo’s body warm them both back up. In a moment he’ll get up, get them both cleaned up so they can sleep, but for now he’s content to press sweet kisses to his soulmate’s shoulders.


	7. Aries Mû/Virgo Shaka

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @versailles-fairytale asked: Hiya! All romantic! Milo/Camus, Saga/Mû, Mû/Shaka owo thank you so much!
> 
> 3/3, hope you liked them all, Versailles! Featuring lil Kiki, rain, Shaka’s stork legs, and a blackout.

“You’re soaked to the skin, Shaka, come inside!” Mû frets, drawing him in out of the icy cold mountain rain. Kiki peeks around him, looking up at Shaka curiously.

“Why were you out in the rain? You get sick if you do that,” he pointed out in impeccable six-year-old logic. Mû vanishes deeper into the tower to find towels and dry clothes, returning promptly.

"Kiki’s right, you know. Here, dry off and change. Kiki, do you think you can get the kettle filled up and on the stove?” Mû gently redirects the child, and he obediently patters off.

"It was also raining in Greece,” Shaka observes, unwinding soaked orange cloth from himself quickly, drying off and pulling on the sweatpants Mû gives him. They’re highwater, Mû is shorter than Shaka, but they’re warm and dry. Mû helps him bundle his hair up into a towel, and then shoves a sweater that used to belong to Shion over his head. It fits him rather well. That done, he hands Shaka some hand-knit wool socks and runs off to make sure Kiki is doing okay.

Shaka trails after him, pulling on the socks, and watches Mû lift up Kiki so the little boy can take down one mug at a time with a faint smile. Mû prepares the tea, and Shaka sits at the table. Kiki takes this as an invitation to climb into his lap, and Shaka cuddles the child to him.

“You didn’t say you were coming, Shaka, why didn’t you wait the rain out?” Mû asks worriedly. Shaka smiles a bit more widely, watching the Aries Saint fuss with the tea.

“I had something important I needed to tell you. Something I’ve let slide for too long.” Shaka tells him, voice grave. Mû hands him a cup of tea with a worried expression, and sets Kiki’s mug on the table where he can reach it.

“Be careful Kiki, it’s hot,” he reminds absently. “What is it, Shaka? Is something wrong?”

"I know that, I helped you make it,” Kiki grumbles.

“It’s about our soul bond.” Shaka murmurs, savoring the delicatly floral green tea. He can see that Kiki has some sort of herbal, fruity tea. He knows from experience that Mû’s is black tea prepared the traditional Tibetan way, with salt and butter. Mû looks worried, and Shaka doesn’t want to string this out, so he cuts to the chase. “I’ve been trying to convince myself that our bond is platonic since we met. Its not, it’s romantic.” he says bluntly, and Mû sets down his mug with a dull thunk.

“Ew,” Kiki states from his place on Shaka’s lap, and slides down, taking himself and his tea out to the living room. They heard the TV click on.

“You’re certain?” Mû looks painfully hopeful, and Shaka stands, setting down his tea and walking around the table to cup Mû’s face in still-chilled fingers.

“I am,” he says softly, and bends down, kissing Mû, light and sweet and chaste. When they part, Mû gives him a bright, sweet smile that rivaled sunrises for the most beautiful thing Shaka has ever seen.

“Thank you, Shaka,” he breathes, and stands, curling his arms around Shaka’s neck and drawing him down into another kiss. A bolt of lightning lit the kitchen, and suddenly everything goes dark as thunder growls. Kiki squawks in alarm in the living room, and Mû laughs, warm and helplessly fond.


	8. Aquarius Camus/Scorpio Milo (LoS)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @perladellanotte asked: can you write a fanfic with Camus/Milo LoS?
> 
> Totally called that you’d ask for exactly this, lol. I do hope you like the way I write these two, you haven’t really said.

Milo doesn’t meet her soulmate until she’s twenty. It doesn’t really bother her, she’s busy training and becoming a legend in her own right. It’s her Cloth Ceremony, where she’s officially being accepted into the ranks of the Gold Saints. She’s technically held the title of Scorpio since she was eighteen, this is largely just a formality. She knows why it took so long- it’s taken Sanctuary a while to recover from Aiolos’s betrayal.

Still, it’s her first time actually meeting most of the Gold Saints. Everyone is lovely and polite, and it’s actually a nice little party, if a bit boringly professional. Still, that’s about what Milo had expected. There’s a small reception, and the finger foods are nice, and they don’t skimp on the alcohol.

Everyone is at least several years older than her, it seems, except the one man with blue-green hair who seems entirely preoccupied with holding the wall up and staring into his slowly melting ice cubes. He looks about her age. She can’t remember his name. She can’t remember any of their names, but that will come with time.

Milo wanders over and leans next to him. He looks up, startled, and then back down at his ice cubes. They’ve solidified again, into one weird lumpy chunk of ice. She giggles.

“I’d ask if I could buy you a drink, but the drinks are free and you just froze yours,” she quips, and he looks up at her with wide, round eyes and drops the glass. Ice and glass shatter at their feet and Milo swears, skittering backwards. “What the hell, I was just saying hello!” She huffs, and now everyone is staring at them. She flushes, uncomfortable, tugging at a stray lock of red hair and starts to walk away, trying to regain some dignity.

“No wait, come back, I’m sorry.” He blurts, catching her arm, and she freezes, spinning around to stare at him. He looks desperate, and adorable, somehow.

“You know,” she says slowly. “I always did wonder what you’d be apologizing over.” Several of their watchers cotton on after that and turn away, resuming their chatter, and everyone else leaves them to their own corner of awkwardness. “Also,” she winces, “ I don’t remember your name.”

“Camus. I’m Camus. And you’re beautiful.” He says, genuine and awkward and admiring, before flushing and putting his face in his hands. “This isn’t going at all well,” he moans softly. She giggles again.

“If it’s any consolation, I always knew it was going to be some sort of small disaster.” She tells him.


	9. Gemini Saga/Sagittarius Aiolos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: For soulmates, platonic Saga and Aiolos, but Saga still kills him? Any doubts before, feelings after? .u. thank you!
> 
> And here we see our friendly neighborhood SATAN, if you just feed them some GUILT RIDDEN ANGST hopefully they go away. uwu (go away satisfied, that is, lol)
> 
> Also warnings for possession and possible body horror? This makes use of my headcanon that Saga was literally possessed by Ares, God of Conquest & Bloodshed.

He can’t breathe, but his body is breathing.

He can’t see, but everything is too-bright and overly saturated.

He can’t smell, but a rich coppery stink clings inside his nose.

He can’t hear, but his heartbeat pounds so loudly he thinks his eardrums will burst.

He can’t speak, but his mouth is moving, spilling toxic lies into the ears of a small, innocent, curly-haired ten year old.

He can’t move, but there is still a knife clutched in his fingers under the voluminous sleeves of someone else’s robes.

He can’t feel, but a searing pain turns the verdant green-gold words on his upper arm a dead, cold black.

He’s trapped in his body, the thing inside him like an oil slick sliding over his brain. Muffling everything and simultaneously amplifying it.

He’s alone, and not alone, and no one can help him.

He’s dying by inches, too weak now to even struggle against the force invading him and playing his body like a skilful puppeteer.

Shoved in a corner of his brain, locked away but still viscerally aware of everything around him, Saga sobs. Softly, desperately, giving in for just this moment.

Shion is dead, by his hands. There’s still a brown-red crust under his nails, spots of blood on his hands.

Athena is gone, thankfully, and he hopes she still lives.

Aiolos is dead, and it had been his voice issuing the order, manipulating a child into killing his hero.

Aiolos is dead, and Saga’s arm is cold. There will be no more friendly clasps, no wrestling, no laughter, no rush of brotherly warmth.

He can’t breathe.


	10. Aries Shion/Libra Dohko

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @silverrnotumble asked: If you’re still taking soulmate requests, Shion/Dohko please?
> 
> Good grief, figuring out which language Dohko probably spoke was a nightmare. I copped out, it’s Cantonese. I’m basically making Dohko be from southeastern China, which means (probably) that while Shion probably speaks a (possibly multiple) Chinese language, in addition to (probably) Central Tibetan, he doesn’t understand Dohko like at all.

Shion doesn’t know what half of his soul mark says. It’s in a pretty easy to read place, right along the delicate skin and bones and veins of his wrist. Half of it is in Greek, which he’s gotten pretty good at! Or so Master Hakurei says.

_‘Watch where you’re going,’_

It’s written in warm, rich brown. Shion likes the color. The other half is in hànzì that he doesn’t know. No one will tell him how to read it, either. Master Hakurei always looks like he bit into a rotted cabbage when Shion asks.

It’s then he knows that his soulmate is going to cuss him out their first meeting. And that they’ll probably meet in Greece. It’s an amusing contrast, that lovely, comforting color, the absolutely beautiful calligraphy - Shion’s soulmate makes the blocky simplicity of Greek look lovely! - and the surety that his wrist says something absolutely filthy.

He’s twelve when Hakurei finally, finally takes him to Sanctuary. Nothing happens the whole trip, and Shion is bitterly disappointed. Hakurei clearly feels bad about it too, because they start going pretty regularly. He learns patience quickly, in order to mitigate the sting of disappointment.

He’s fifteen and running late for training when it finally happens, sprinting down the hill. He crashes into someone, they both lose their balance, and go tumbling down the hill until they stop, wheezing for air, filthy and covered in bruises.

“Watch where you’re going,” and the rest of that is beautiful, and Shion can’t understand a word of it. He thinks it might be Cantonese? He finishes, panting, and wow, he’s pretty.

“So, are you going to tell me what any of that means? No one else will.” He says with a sly smirk. He watches those warm, dark brown eyes go wide and shocked with a healthy dose of amusement.

“I- I never…” the other boy splutters, and Shion grins, entirely entertained. “I never thought I would swear at you upon our first meeting.” He manages, looking miserable. Wow, Shion’s soulmate talks like an old man, all stiff and formal.

“It’s okay. When no one would tell me what those hànzì were I figured you would.” Shion shrugs, entirely unperturbed. He’s had his whole life to get used to it “So, you gonna teach me how to swear in your language? I have to take you to training with me as proof of why I’m late anyway,” he stands, brushing himself off, and then hauls his soulmate to his feet and does the same for him. “I’m Shion, by the way. The candidate for Aries.”

“Dohko, the Libra candidate,” Dohko tells him, and Shion clasps his hand.

“So, you’re not getting out of teaching me to swear. I even have reference material!” He bares his wrist, and Dohko buries his face in one hand, the picture of mortification.

Shion giggles.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @wishingyoucouldshowmelove asked: ok, since I’m such a obvious shipper, I’m going to ask for romantic Syd/Lyfia >/////<
> 
> Omg Lyfia is so cute. Adorably awkward, like me. Also, they’re between sixteen and seventeen in this? Ish.

The first time Lyfia sees a God Warrior isn’t actually that special. A bit exciting, but not too special. It’s a normal day, and as a maid, her job is to remain on the sidelines. Out of sight and out of mind. It’s not exactly a glamorous job, but she doesn’t mind hard labor. There’s a group of them coming through, and she looks for Fróði, to give him a smile and a nod. She doesn’t see the other teen walking with Fróði look after her curiously as she hurries away.

She doesn’t  _meet_ a God Warrior for quite a while, nearly a whole year after that, with the notable exception of Lady Polaris Hilda, of whom she is a lady’s maid. And Fróði, if he counts.

Lyfia spends a lot of her free time in the libraries of the palace. There’s something that draws her there, a sense of dormant anticipation. A vague whisper in the back of her mind that utters -  _soon, but not yet_. She likes reading, though, and learning things. She’s reading a treatise on the goddess Freya, when he finds her. She’s utterly absorbed with reading an explanation of how the two God Robes of the Zeta Stars represent the two cats that pulled her chariot, when a hand falls onto her shoulder, and she startles, badly.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you,” His voice is lovely and sweet, and she finds herself replying before she even realizes those are the words written high on her ribcage, beneath her breast.

“It’s all right - oh, did you need this book?” Lyfia asks, jumping to her feet and bowing, offering him the book.

“I- no-  _wait,_ ” she looks up at him, and the pieces fall into place. She gasps, nearly drops the book, and blushes beet red, hiding her face behind the tome. He chuckles softly. “Don’t hide, pretty one,” he murmurs, taking the book gently and setting it aside. He takes her hands in his when she tries to hide her face in them, and brushes the tip of his nose against her blazing cheek. “You’re so lovely,” he tells her, sweet and sincere.

“I- you’re very handsome,” she whispers back, still thoroughly embarrassed. “Ah- I’m, um, Lyfia. Ladies’ maid to Lady Polaris Hilda, milord,” she dips the awkwardest curtsy of her life, hands still clasped in his.

“Mizar Zeta Syd,” he tells her, and her face gets even redder. Her soulmate is a God Warrior?! Well. Two of them are, because Fróði is a platonic soulmate, the closest she has to a brother. She stammers something terribly awkward, but he silences her with a soft, gentle kiss, and she melts against him. A faint noise catches her ear, like someone snorting softly in disgust, but she doesn’t pay it any mind.

“Are you on break?” He asks her breathlessly when they part, and she shakes her head, then nods.

“It’s my day off,” she explains softly. He smiles.

“Then let me take you on a date,” he asks, and she nods, biting her lip. Apparently this bond is probably romantic? Though, shouldn’t they try to confirm it? She blushes again at the thought of him laying one of those strong hands against her words. She’d have to take off her dress! That definitely wasn’t happening. Yet. “Oh!” He fumbles with his sleeve, pushing it up so she can see her words, sky-blue against the swell of muscle on his upper arm. She touches them with delicate fingers, and he shivers, looking at her expectantly. Oh. He’s expecting her to reciprocate.

“Um. My words, they’re not,” she fumbles, before pressing her fingertips to their location. His eyes go wide, and it’s his turn to blush.

“So, ah, a date,” he changes the subject hastily. “Have you had lunch yet?”

“No, lunch sounds good,” she murmurs, slipping her hand into his elbow when he offers it.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the LLF Comment Project, which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
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